


linger

by cabriesun



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Astral Plane (Kind of), Confessions, Dreams, Dreamscapes, Fluff, Inception AU, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabriesun/pseuds/cabriesun
Summary: “Why can’t you just ask him to talk right now? He’s literally over there right now.” Pidge offers but Keith shushes her, glancing back in case their topic of discussion just happened to hear their discussion.“Could you be any louder, dude? Do you want Shiro to know before I even get the chance to tell him? Look, it’ll just be easier to tell him when he’s in the dream. Then I don’t have to go through the whole ‘Oh really?’, ‘Yeah really!’, ‘Prove it then!’ spiel.”“You make a good point,” Pidge holds her water bottle in the air, “I’m proud of you for coming to your senses in under 20 minutes.”“Yeah, whatever,” Keith murmurs, but Pidge offers to toast regardless.“To the truth.”“Really?” Keith’s brow arcs.“Really, man. This is a huge step forward for you.”The latter smiles tiredly, already feeling the drag from the night he’s about to have while knocking his soda can against her metal bottle.“To the truth.”Or Keith does somethingreally bad, and he's going to have to own up to it sooner or later.





	linger

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY,,, THIS FIC,,, was a MONSTER to write. it was for the dreamscape zine and it took me a little over an EON to complete due to hand injuries, college, and general hell. when i finally finished i remember sleeping with the clearest conscience ever, only to have to worry about ten thousand more things.
> 
> i ,i>sincerely hope you enjoy this one,,, the idea was one of the ones that killed me no matter how stuck i got.

It was within Shiro’s dreams, that he felt happiest. The sun shined brighter, its radiance a permanent scar on Keith’s skin, rather than a temporary burn. _Everything_ was brighter in the depths of Shiro’s mind, and Keith wonders whether it’s an illusion of his _own_ mind, or the pure positivity that crowds the depths of Shiro’s soul. It’s a rarity in dreams, making it endlessly mesmerising and even more tempting.

He watches the possy he’d become painfully familiar with over his high school years from a distance. Shiro leads them: the lion of his own jungle. Behind him, Lance McClain and Hunk Garrett, among many others that usually parade beside him.

 _So he dreams of them too_. Keith’s gaze follows the pack, creeping underneath bright neon signs that illuminate their skin. The wind rustles Keith’s coat, toys with his hair, but he doesn’t feel the chill crawl up his spine like it should. He curls inward regardless, his knees knit together by a single tether.

His plans for the night consisted of watching movies with Pidge, maybe sneaking out for a late night smoothie through her bedroom window. But somehow (his own hormonal mind, he assumes), he finds himself perched exactly where he doesn’t need to be. Shiro’s dreams would have resumed either way, with or without him. But to be there always had a more satisfying taste than he’d like to admit. He’d more than likely dive in again, if given the inspiration or opportunity.

Keith’s gaze rests on the sky, a mosaic of varying colors that he able to decipher years ago splayed out before his eyes. Rainbows, sunshine, and laughter were all that he needed to identify Shiro’s dreams. To end up in the wrong one was more than common, but Keith’s been lucky enough to land exactly where he needs to be. He doesn’t even have a reason for coming. It’s more therapeutic than anything. Hard days, long days, _easy_ days—

A rumble thunders from the skies, drawing Keith from the depths of his mind back to Shiro’s dreamscape. His head tips to the sky, narrowing his eyes as he watches a shard the length of a windy driveway carve through the clouds and the rays of light.

_Time to go._

His eyes flicker back to where Shiro, a figment of his own dreamscape but still Shiro, essentially, disappears, quite like every time he visits. Whether he be alone, with his friends, or his family, he always vanished behind a thin layer of smoke before Keith was dragged out of his dreamland by unwanted force.

It only takes a few blinks before he’s yanked from brightness and dragged to his much darker reality. Usually, he gets a glimpse of Shiro’s side profile or a lasting echo of his voice, but tonight he’s granted with nothing but the flex of his back muscles before he’s opening his eyes to an entirely different scene.

It’s silent for mere seconds before the ringing starts, piercing and louder with each angry pang of the ache in his head. The pounding is faster, _louder_ —

“You’re back.”

Yep. He’s back.

The last hints of rainbow-tinted sky fade with the last lingering stars. Keith closes his eyes as he feels himself being brought back to the darkroom and wooden walls he started with. The voice belongs to Pidge and Pidge alone, her hands full with medical wrap and Neosporin.

“Keith?” She repeats, resting her hand on his shoulder and shaking with light caution. Only doing what Keith’s told her to do time after time, keeping a firm grip on him as if to keep him from straying back into the dream.

“I’m here,” he says, weak and quiet.

“Do you want me to wait for you to—”

“No, take it out,” Keith shifts the arm that holds the skimpy needle, “t-take it out.”

“Okay, okay hold still.”

Pidge reaches out to steady Keith’s arm before pulling the needle from where he’d stuck it three, maybe four hours ago. The pullback into real-time stings, but the aftershock is agonizing. He yelps, voice creaking and body leaping from the wooden chair that braces him upwards.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Pidge hums gently, “it’s fine.”

“I _know_ it’s fine,” Keith sighs, stretching his arm out and watching the purple liquid drip from where he was pricked. He snatches a tissue from his bedside drawer before

“So…what did you see?”

“The same shit I always see, Pidge.” He confesses quietly, “colors and too much sun.”

“Well I’ve never heard you _complain_ about it,” she mutters, residing beside him. The bandages and medical wrap and thrown aimlessly to the corner of his bedroom before she continues. “You’ve been breaching Shiro’s dreams again since school started, and yes, I’ve stood by idly and let things happen as they do, but I need to know what you’re doing, Keith. Are you looking for something?”

“It’s not really any of your business,” Keith says at first, grimacing as soon as the words leave his lips. _Wrong answer_.

“Oh, okay, I guess I’ll just stop coming over every time you want to breach your crush’s dreams and pulling you back into reality. Good luck next time—”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Keith holds his hands in the air, accepting his defeat in the face of Pidge’s more than accurate logic. From the outside looking in, it’s probable he seems maniacal. There are certain limits to his skills that should be respected, and Keith is far from it. But then he’s ignoring the desire, crawling into bed unsatisfied, rolling in his sheets _unsatisfied_ —

And then he’s calling Pidge over, asking for what’s usually her newest batch of drecomine (the name her sole creation along with the drug itself) in order to pry himself into Shiro’s mind and bask in what he’s missing out on. Why?

“I’m looking for courage,” he murmurs to her, eyes trained on his quivering hands—a common symptom when coming down from drecomine, “God knows if I’ll find it but—”

A sigh racks his body down to his aching soul, hands reaching to tangle in his matted hair.

“I feel closer to him in his dreams. And…maybe that’ll get me a step closer in real life.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Keith Kogane turned ten years old, he discovered he was a dream breacher. Meaning yes, Keith had the power to enter dreams at his own will.

He inherited the trait from his mother’s side of the family, hers being a long line of breachers that almost always failed to cease. Despite the never-ending illegality, Keith’s mother taught him to be proud of what he’d inherited, just as her father, and those before him once did.

But, figuring out you could breach into the very minds of others was an enormous part of Keith’s development upon discovery.

He didn’t exactly have the best control of it at first, being that his first altercation with his abilities ended with a cold sweat and bile crawling up his throat. To be in another’s subconsciousness is a shock that affects the body more than the mind. Inherited from his mother’s side, Keith was thrown into a world he didn’t know existed within the one he knew so well. Krolia taught him the first of years worth of lessons he didn’t know he’d need in order to live a normal life. He was introduced to dream theory, mind jumping, _drecomine_ —

His mother didn’t know about that last one, but he found out by his own means.

It alienated him in school; when he could have been playing recreational basketball, he was learning how to stay within his own mind and body at night after he fell asleep. He’d wake up in someone else’s mindscape, the fight back to his own lasting entire nights if not longer. It took time and energy from what could have been his normal life, but it paid off.

Paid off to a point where he no longer had to worry. Where he controlled the power, rather than the power controlling him.

He met Pidge Gunderson in his first year of high school. The words ‘dream jumpers’ left her lips and instantly Keith found a friend in her curiosity and intelligence. She alone is the pioneer of the drug that he and others like him use to enhance their abilities.

For the first year he was exposed to drecomine, Keith didn’t make very wise choices. He’d travels to dreams wherever and whenever he could without consequence, to obsessive heights. Though it was beyond wrong for him to continue on with the pattern he seemed to be traveling down, no one that really _knew_ Keith within his inner circles had the heart to stop him. He was laughing ‘till tears brimmed his violet eyes. To stop him would be to rob him of the joy he struggled to find for years on end.

That is, until early December of his sophomore year. The only distinct memory of his sophomore year was the night he met—and fell in love with—Takashi Shirogane.

He and Pidge were making a hasty exit from their last drecomine deal for the night. It was supposed to be simple, just some returns and new sales. Keith tagged along purely because of his boredom. His homework was done, his parents were out, it’s not like anyone was asleep yet…

It was a decision he doesn’t regret to this day, for when he turned down a tight corner, his face met Takashi Shirogane’s chest. Pidge missed the whole thing go down, too invested with the possibility of cops lurking about and seeing her with what would be considered extremely suspicious materials.

Keith didn’t care about what Pidge was doing or where she was going by the time she was gone. He’d lost himself in a hurricane, swallowed by cloudy grey eyes that spelled out nothing but concern. Swept away by looks beyond anything he’d ever seen in his sixteen years breathing. And when the stranger’s hand reached out towards his frozen figure sprawled on the pavement, the eye of the storm overcame him.

“Are you okay?” He had asked, unmoving and stoic, “I didn’t mean to knock you over.”

“I…”

Always equipped with comebacks of all kinds, Keith had never thought he’d find himself in a situation where he’d be utterly speechless. It made him feel small and ridiculous, not having the last word. But Shiro had it that day. His name was written all over the first _and_ last words exchanged between them.

When Keith realized how much he didn’t mind that that was the case, he knew something more would brew. He _wanted_ something more to brew.

So he found out they went to the same school. That he was only a grade above him. That he didn’t have a keen liking for girls and invested exclusively in men. And after that and a few bonus facts, Keith was gone. And yet he couldn’t go back.

He couldn’t go back and talk to him again, have a conversation that didn’t start with him on the floor and end with him running away. Keith couldn’t _breathe_ when he saw Shiro in the hallways of their once dark and gloomy school. Shiro made everything brighter; the look, the feel… Keith was sure that Shiro’s locker was secretly wrapped in velvet gold. A necessity as simple as a locker was suddenly worth thousands, just because it was his.  

That was a power beyond dream breaching.

He couldn’t bring himself to carry on with his past shenanigans once Shiro made an appearance in his life. There was a new light in his life, and it was as bright as it was compelling. Instead, he conspired to put all that pent-up energy towards mustering up enough courage to make himself known.

It was a late night turned early morning spent with Pidge and a bottle of vodka that Keith chose to breach Shiro’s dream.

“Are you sure?” Pidge had asked once she’d returned with the drecomine. It took Keith at least twelve minutes of drunken begging in order for her to say yes, so all situational factors aside, he wasn’t backing down.

“Maybe once I’m in I’ll see,” he’d whispered, more for himself than for Pidge. It still felt beyond weird that he even considered the idea, but he was drunk, desperate and willing to try anything.

“See what, though?”

“A _way_ , something I haven’t seen before—just, some sort of start on how to get him into my life. Figure out what he likes, when he has class,”

“You _could_ just talk to him.” Her realism dripped off her tongue like poison but she still drew the needle from the bottle of drecomine, still sterilized his skin and the veins that pulsed beneath it.

“Just do it,” Keith ordered, running the risk and reward through his mind sloppily, “ _please._ Before I change my mind.”

“I should just wait then, shouldn’t I?”

“ _Do it.”_

And once she did, dream breaching had an entirely new meaning in itself. He swore he’d never do it again, that he'd never invade such a utopia for his own personal gain a second time. It was wrong, completely against the values his mother had raised him with and any and all morality.

But it was a lie. He lied, and lied, and lied. For two years. And Keith still wasn’t sure if he regretted it as he should have.

“So,”

He looks up from his school provided meal to acknowledge Pidge, ignoring the mess he’s made of it during his ardent thought.

“When are you going to tell him?”

She has to raise her voice to an octave that she rarely uses, knowing it’s the only way Keith’s going to hear even part of what she’s saying. The lunchroom is louder than usual today, Friday night’s football game leaving the masses with an excitement that could level a small city.

“Tell him what?” Keith asks, his chin unmoving from where it rests in his palm.

“Tell him how you feel? I thought we were getting somewhere the other night,” Pidge twirls one of his soggy french fries in a pool of off-brand ketchup, “you know…starting a new path, _not_ breaching his dreams every other night…”

“I know what I _have_ to do,” Keith picks at the cloth of his sweater, “doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

“You should at least _try_. You’re not like anyone else as far as I know, and you shouldn’t just be using your abilities for personal gain. No one else would be able to cope with their teen angst by invading the dreams of the person that causes it.”

“I—”

“Keith.”

He purses his lips. Pidge drums her fingertips against the table in a pattern of annoyance.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” Keith dares to beg.

“It’s healthier to talk it out. You’re invading his privacy, Keith. What the hell do you think is going to happen if he wakes up in the middle of a breach because you fucked something up?”

“I haven’t messed up mid-breach since—”

“I think it’s time he knows what you’ve been doing for the past two years.”

As if on cue, spoken from the mouth of God himself, Shiro makes his entrance. He glides into the cafeteria with the effortless suave and poise of a male model. His smile is wide, his eyes are shimmering, his presence… bright.

Keith finds himself thinking it a lot more than usual, especially when sitting for hours surrounded by it all instead of sleeping in his host body. It’s starting it hurt more to be intrigued by Shiro, his crush turning into something he doesn’t dare to call love. Even if that feeling is not _remotely_ close to the real thing.

“I can’t stop…” he admits with heavy guilt, “it’s so much easier than talking to him. So much would change. He barely sees me out here. At least I can be _near_ him without being creepy in his dreams.”

“I repeat: you’ve _surpassed_ creepy.”

Keith watches from his peripheral vision as Shiro circulates the cafeteria to his designated table, taking his seat on the right-hand side. Lance and Hunk take their respective seats, surrounding him along with the rest of the boys that belong to the beloved football team.

He hates them. It’s a jealous hatred but it’s one he still finds validation in. He wants to be the one sitting next to Shiro, talking, laughing, hell he’s jealous of them for things they don’t even _do_. Keith has nothing against Shiro’s friends. In fact, they’re some of the nicest people in their school. Obnoxious, sometimes more immature than they need to be, but their acts of kindness and general pleasantness burns through the antics.

But yeah, Keith hates them. If they felt the way he felt, they’d be a step closer than him. And though the chances of such a possibility are unlikely and simply unrealistic, Keith just can’t help but… well, _think about it_.

He wants to be the one holding Shiro’s hand. He wants to shove Lance from where he sits and wrap his arms around Shiro’s broad torso, twirl his snowy hair between his fingertips. He wants to kiss him and feel affection that would surpass a conventional high, or, maybe even the euphoria of dreaming.

Maybe Pidge is right. Maybe it _is_ time to let go of the comfort he’s created in Shiro’s mind. He’d never be able to do any of the things he desperately wanted to do if he didn’t use his voice anyway. It should be done sooner, rather than later.

“Okay,” he whispers, turning from where he can see Shiro and locking eyes with Pidge once more, “you win.”

“I’m sorry?” She pushes her tray to the side gently, “I’m going to need you to clarify.”

“I’ll tell him,” Keith says, disgruntledly, but still speaking it into existence, “tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’ll tell him in the dream when I breach it.”

“ _Keith_ —”

“No I know! I know what you’re gonna say,” He holds his hands up in protest, “but I feel that’s the best way. He won’t believe me otherwise.”  
  
“Why can’t you just ask him to talk right now? He’s literally over there right now.” Pidge offers but Keith shushes her, glancing back in case their topic of discussion just _happened_ to hear their discussion.

“Could you _be_ any louder, dude? Do you want him to know before I even get the chance to tell him? Look, it’ll just be easier to tell him when he’s _in_ the dream. Then I don’t have to go through the whole ‘Oh really?’, ‘Yeah really!’, ‘Prove it then!’ spiel.”

“You make a good point,” Pidge holds her water bottle in the air, “I’m proud of you for coming to your senses in under 20 minutes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Keith murmurs, but Pidge offers to toast regardless.

“To the truth.”

“Really?” Keith’s brow arcs.

“Really, man. This is a huge step forward for you.”

The latter smiles tiredly, already feeling the drag from the night he’s about to have while knocking his soda can against her metal bottle.

“To the truth.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith slipped through Pidge’s second story window an hour after the time he said he’d arrive, to Pidge’s disappointment. Between getting home from school and then, Keith had been between naps, a panic attack, and a period where he listened to nothing but Paramore and Pink Floyd in order to hype himself up.

It feels strange that he’s finally telling Shiro something he’s kept buried from the world for _two_ years. The circumstances are rushed and he knows that’s why he’s feeling uneasy, (other than the fact that he’s putting quite literally _everything_ on the line). Though worry seems to have intensified and carried over to other parts of his usual dishonesties. When his mom interrogated him on his whereabouts for the evening, Keith could barely get a word out of his mouth, stumbling over every lie he usually tells her until Krolia eventually let her poor flustered son leave. Keith can only assume she thinks he’s going out to meet with a boy behind the bleachers, rather than illegally breach his dreams.

The former option is alright with him.

“Welcome to your doom,” Pidge grins as he plants his first foot inside, baring her wide set of teeth before finally stepping aside to assist, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“You’re supposed to be my friend. Stop tearing me down every second you get.”

“You did that without my help, honestly,” her grin doesn’t fall in the slightest, “this is long overdue, and as happy as I am that I helped you come to the conclusion, I hope it bites you in the ass.”

“Why?”

“A lesson learned.”

Keith snorts, gripping the end of his sweater and tugging it over his unruly head of hair. Typical of her to still want to push the lesson onto him. Keith never found himself to be moralistic, which could probably serve as the first explanation as to why he even thought breaching Shiro’s dreams was a good idea.

“Is everything set up?” Keith glances about her bedroom, eyes quick to scan the familiar test tubes and needles that line her dresser.

“Been ready for like two hours. You’re the one that came late.”

“I was hyping myself up,” he murmurs, “gonna literally pour my heart out in like twenty minutes.”

“Unless you pussy out,” Pidge grins, “but no, it’s not gonna take twenty minutes.”

“It’s not?” He asks, sitting in the same wooden chair from the night before. He used to use a couch, but when he would come from the dream world his mind would still imagine that he was falling through what felt like an infinite realm until he would be brought back to Pidge’s room. Since then, he’s learned that hard, unforgiving surfaces provide a better snap into reality. Reality _is_ discomfort, after all.

“I think I’ve finally perfected the drug, honestly. With the alterations I made, and the hope that my computer simulation is accurate to real life circumstance, this should kick in instantly.”

_Instantly?_

“But won’t it take a while to seep in regardless?”

“What, a whole thirty seconds?” Pidge snorts, “The notion of every second counting is bullshit. You’ll literally be in Shiro’s dream as soon as the needle leaves your arm.”

So instantly. Great. Keith rolls his right sleeve past his tensed bicep, the fight to settle his mind suddenly a thousand times harder than just a few minutes ago. He eventually just rips the entire sweatshirt off his body, consumed by nervous heat. He watches Pidge fill the dispenser with drecomine, his usual excitement quickly drained as she completes the task and turns her attention to him.

He can’t feel his fingertips from the fear, but it’s even more of a sign that he _needs_ to do this. To live in fear is to not live at all, and to live in deceit isn’t something he wants to do anymore. Confessing to Shiro will open new doors.

“This is the last time?”

Pidge withholds the drug from where Keith’s vein bulges, eyeing the elder with a potent warning. Keith sighs.  This is the end. Frankly, it would have been either way, with the chance of Shiro remembering the dream when he’d wake up.

“Last time,” he repeats after her, wiggling his arm and ignoring the swift turn of his insides, “I promise. Come on, I’m ready.”

“Okay, this is going to be a heavier, more intense dosage of drecomine than you’ve experienced,” Pidge warns with her voice this time, rather than her facial expression, “it might hurt you a _lot_ , but if you wanna get through and communicate with him, then you need to fight.”  
  
“Not a problem,” Keith murmurs, “you know that.”

“I know you _think_ it isn’t a problem,” She continues regardless of the protest, “but it is. And I like to see you _alive_ , so I’m going to tell you anyway. The second you’ve entered, again, if my calculations are of accuracy, you’ll literally be crashing into him.”

“Why?”

“You’re changing the purpose of his dream; it’s out of his control once you enter under this specific influence,” Pidge taps the glass, “I’m telling you, I included _everything_.”

“Is that it?” Keith bites his lower lip.

“That’s all, but…”

She leans in close.

“If you don’t tell him, I’m going to do it myself.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Keith smiles, waving his arm, “come on. Do it.”

Pidge cocks an amused brow, sterilizing his skin. “I guess I’ll see you on the other side, Kogane.”

“See you on the other side,” He says, eyes shut as soon as he feels the harsh prick of the needle. He’s got this. Keith has done a lot worse than what he’s about to do. As long as he ignores the red flags as he has been for the past couple of years, he should be alright. There’s… a lot worse that could be happening.

But what if Shiro _wasn’t_ going to be happy with the truth. What if was more than him not liking Keith, but wanting to take legal action? Breaching dreams has been a secret kept within its wielders. They were a tight-knit society, and Keith’s mom had always made that clear as he was learning. Shiro could easily call the authorities and after that?

Keith’s breath hitched.

“Wait wait I—”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith stops mid-sentence when he’s sucked into Shiro’s dream once more. It’s different than the night before; the sun isn’t as bright, the clouds closing in right above him in an almost purposeful pattern. Pidge was right; the effect was instantaneous, and he didn’t feel any different. No lag, no stunning of his arm (usually he has to wait an extra five minutes before he can even move it), and no lapse of vision.

It’s then, when he sees Shiro across the way. The wisps of his hair flap about his forehead as he looks frantically around him. His hands are balled in fists, tensing close to his waist. It’s more than likely he senses the disturbance in his dreamscape. It _is_ his own mind, after all.

There’s no better time than right then and there to make contact, Keith supposes. Shiro’s no fool; it’s no wonder he was able to detect the younger’s presence, despite not even knowing where he originated.

Keith takes one last glance at the sea of stars that decorate the stars, avoiding the questions that have threatened the very will he fights to maintain. He can’t help it when he’s around Shiro, and knowing that _he_ knows Keith is there only amplifies that wavering anxiety.

“Where are you?!” He shouts, “I know you’re here! I—”

Keith’s breathing practically stops when his voice cracks.

“—I can _feel_ you, why can’t I hear you?!” He shouts, panic glossing over his eyes until he finally _finally_ sees Keith, standing where he’s hidden by a flurry of clouds.

 _Fuck_.

“You…” Shiro whispers it but Keith can still hear despite the alarming distance, “who are you? Don’t I…”

“Shiro, _wait_.”

Keith has trained for this. Not… _trained_ , but had a hypothetical conversation with his mother about the steps one would have to take if they dared to make contact in a dream. Despite the suspicion, the information he received was more than beneficial for this moment.

“My name is Keith Kogane,” He’s in front of Shiro before he knows it, time compression the only possible explanation, “you may not know who I am right now, but your memory will jog itself up to speed momentarily if you really do remember.”

“The…the—you’re the dude I ran into, right?”

 _A cunning memory._ Keith blushes, more than honored that Shiro recalls him collapsing at his feet two years ago.

“Yes. My name is Keith. We, uh,” he purses his lips, running the risk of exposure, “go to the same school.”

“School…” he whispers, “I don’t even remember seeing you—wait…”

Keith’s eyes widen with a fresh untouched excitement, the possibility of Shiro taking noticing him having practically fallen into his hands until he sees a nerve snap in the elder’s gaze. It’s then when Keith realizes what’s transpiring.

_“Where am I?!”_

Shiro glances anywhere but into Keith’s eyes, making it that much harder for him to utter a response. His dreamscape is then _filled_ with clouds, quickly coated with a heavy grey overcast. _It’s never cloudy._

“You’re dreaming. You’re asleep.”

Shiro’s breath hitches.

“Are you?”

“No,” Keith barely whispers it before Shiro is firing back.

“How are you here?”

“That’s not important right now,” Keith interrupts, “I just—I need to talk to you.”

Shiro finally meets his gaze and his stomach sinks in fear of his choice to intrude Shiro’s dreams on such a personal level. It was a mistake from the beginning. The sinking is his stomach is reminiscent of his reckless breaching days; the hurt in Shiro’s eyes is the same hurt that lied in his mother’s: disappointment, confusion.

“Can you talk to me?” He asks regardless, pushing the doubt to the farthest depths of his mind, “Please?”

“Will I remember this?” Shiro asks.

“I…” Keith purses his lips, “I actually don’t know if you will. This is the first time I’ve done this, really.”

“First _time?”_ Shiro stands from the bench in an instant, eyes flickering frantically from one thing to another as the true nature of his current situation sinks in. Keith feels like shit. He hates the look in his eyes.

“It’s— It’s not my first time here. It’s just, my first time in contact with you,” he finally decides to confess. It calms Shiro to a point that it starts to frighten him, his eyes settling yet again on where Keith stands, hands in the pockets of the jacket he’s been dressed in. Clothing is chosen by the climate of the subconscious mind. Cold. He’s _freezing_.

Shiro’s arms are crossed as he backs away, and Keith realizes he’s nowhere near where he wants to be in this conversation.

“Explain.”

The breeze picks up.

“I’ll answer all your questions,” Keith nods, trying to keep his cool, “just, come with me. Let’s just sit.”

He feels strange, knowing each and every corner of Shiro’s dreamscape better than Shiro knows it himself. He chose to take them to where he was seated last in his dreams, across from the ribbons of neon lights that decorated endless buildings in more colors that Keith could name. It almost symbolized an infinite city. Keith could match it to Shiro’s personality; neverending enjoyment and an open mind for all, no matter who you are, or what colors you wear on your sleeve.

“Let’s sit here,” he murmurs as soon as he’s located the spot, underneath his heavy breath but loud enough for Shiro to hear and react accordingly.

“Did you create this?” Shiro can barely hold himself back until they’ve settled, but Keith sympathizes and relaxes, fighting to flow with every change of emotion.

“It’s yours,” he says, resting a hand between where their legs rest on the bench, “everything here is yours. We’re inside your dream.”

“Okay,” he sighs, “alright. So how are _you_ here?”

“I… breached you.” Keith frowns.

“Breached?”

“I entered your dream at will.” He continues, though Shiro’s glare intensifies, “I have been…for the past two years.”

“W-Why?”

Keith’s face is suddenly plunged into a vat of red, blush crawling up his cheeks and blood rushing to his brain.

“B-Because… because I like you. And I have liked you. For…two years…”

Shiro’s gaze darkens in a way that Keith never thought was humanly possible.

“Explain. _Now_.”

 

* * *

 

 

It takes hours; more than needed, but enough to at least pacify Shiro long enough so Keith can measle his weak apology out. Shiro hadn’t really come to understand his motive until the end, when the younger eventually cracked and admitted to his petty fear of rejection and his tendencies to push before needing a reason.

Keith’s ass is starting to hurt from how long they’d been seated on the small park bench overlooking Shiro’s dream city, but it was worth it to finally empty his head, finally pour out every single one of his plaguing thoughts. It was then when, when all his dirty laundry had been aired for Shiro and Shiro alone ( _including_ his dreadful feelings), that the sky cleared along with Shiro’s judgement. All had been explained, and all that was left was the dreaded conclusion.

“I know you probably won’t remember anything that happens in this dream,” Keith starts, hoping he’s explained enough that Shiro can follow without any holes, “but I do want you to know that for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invaded your space like that, no matter how intense or discreet.”

“I…” Shiro purses his lips together in a tight thin line, brows furrowing and showcasing indecisiveness beyond anything Keith has seen, “I want to say I forgive you, but I’m still not really sure if I should _be_ forgiving.”

“Be whatever you want. Just know I’m sorry, and that this is the last night I’ll visit you in here.”

Shiro nods but it’s not enough for Keith, who reaches over and takes both of his hands in his. It’s an instant shock, chills crawling up his forearm and up the base of his neck. It’s more intense than he ever thought it was going to be, and when he looks at Shiro, sees the awe in his face, he _knows_ he isn’t the only one that felt it. Satisfying, earth-shattering _pleasure_ courses through Keith’s veins, and he’s quick to grip tighter.

“You felt that too?” He says, hushed with the uttering of each word.

“I don’t know why…” Shiro whispers, “it was like…”

“Lightning?” Keith says the first thing that comes to mind, and luckily Shiro agrees wholeheartedly.

“Yeah. Lightning.” He breathes, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” The breacher repeats, “it’s—”

“Wait, will I remember _that?_ I— I mean when we touched, I…I have to remember that at least, right?” Shiro asks frantically, the words fluttering from his mouth with the delicacy of rose petals though the weight of his question is that of bricks.

“I…” Keith purses his lips, “I don’t _know_ , honestly. It’s—“

“The first time you’ve ever done this. Right.”

Shiro glances back at him— _directly_ at him—for the first time since they’d arrived in his dream, holding the gaze.

“You only did this, _all of this_ , because you were afraid?”

It sounds a lot worse out in the open, but Keith nods nonetheless. Perhaps it was meant to be in the open after all.

“Am I…” Shiro laughs quietly, “am I _really_ that intimidating?”

His laughter grows stronger, and the sun starts to peek through the clouds, and Keith suddenly feels so much lighter that he almost wants to push it _away_.

“I—I wasn’t intimidated by you—“

“Well that’s exactly what fear _is_ , Keith Kogane.” Shiro calms himself as quickly as he was riled, “Intimidation. And your fear decided to settle in your crush on _me_.”

“I wasn’t scared of you!” Keith exclaims, “I’m not! All I’ve wanted all these years was to be close to you, to _touch_ you, to hear you laugh like you just did up close—“

“But you chose to invade my personal dreamscape when you could have just come up to my lunch table and talked to me the entire time,” Shiro counters, and in an instant Keith is speechless for the second time in his life.

“So _tell_ me—“

Shiro’s hulking body shifts closer, knocking their knees together as he leans close, invading Keith’s space just as the latter had already done to full extent.

“Are you sure you aren’t afraid of me?”

Keith isn’t sure how to answer his question with words. Instead, he opts to grip Shiro’s chin, pressing their lips together. A fire blazes in his blood, pumping straight to his poor heart. Shiro’s lips are soft and they leave him tingling, the sensation flooding his body and leaving fresh tears to prickle in the corners of his eyes. It’s too good, so worth every ounce of patience and anger he felt keeping everything trapped inside.

 _Definitely_ not part of the plan, but his lips were just…right _there_. Just like that Keith was back on the cold pavement, glancing up helplessly into Shiro’s eyes that pooled endlessly with this untouchable beauty that Keith can’t name but desires so much it aches.

When they manage to tear themselves away, it’s just on time. Keith’s focus shifts from the sparkle that keeps them tied to each other, settling on the shard of skyline he sees fall from above. The sky starts to slice in two. Keith’s eyes widen.

“The dream…” He whispers, “it’s disintegrating. You’re waking up.”

Shiro comes from his haze at the mention of his physical form awakening. “Is it morning there already?”

“It is,” Keith grips his shoulder, never turning from the sky, “look, Shiro, y-you can’t tell anyone about this if you remember it when you wake up. You can’t tell anyone about _me_. The consequences could be catastrophic for both of us if it passes into terms of legality I—”

Shiro silences him, taking his index finger and pushing Keith’s chin towards his lips. His mouth opens, a squeak of surprise before he’s melting into the kiss, arms hanging limply beside him. It’s better the second time, especially when Keith doesn’t expect Shiro to reciprocate his feelings in the _slightest_.

“If I don’t remember this,” Shiro says once they disconnect, pure whiteness eating chunks of their space with every word they exchange, “just know you can talk to me. I like you. Maybe not the way you do, not as intense or as long, but I feel like I can. I _could_. If I just got to know you, you know?”

Keith's heart skips at a thousand beats, wanting to reach out and drag another kiss out of him before their time slips from his fingertips.

“I liked the kiss,” Shiro continues, brightness swallowing his legs.

“I’ll give you another one when you wake up,” Keith whispers. He isn’t sure if he was heard, but he sees a hint of a solemn nod before he’s sucked out of Shiro’s dream and back into Pidge’s room. The return is intense this time around, his body twitching with an excitement that’s almost painful. Keith assumes it’s the result of not having to deal with any of his entrance pains. It all evens out somewhere, he supposes.

But to be enveloped in darkness once again feels like a comfort rather than the usual looming disappointment. For once, he isn’t greeted with a lack of closure. Instead, he’s been greeted with a new doorway into Shiro’s life that he previously would have given the _world_ to have.

When he’s back in Pidge’s room it’s a firm slap in the face, a ragged gasp escaping his lips when his body jerks forward. It’s only his young friend’s grip on his shoulders that stops him from falling over. There’s blood trickling from his nose that he feels before seeing. His mouth falls open, wincing as he dots at it with his fingertip.

“That took all night,” Pidge says first, his well being no longer the first thing on her mind, “dude—”

“We kissed…” he whispers, nose be damned, “we kissed— _I_ kissed him.”

In a dream. He kissed Shiro, in a dream. But he still _kissed_ him, right? There wasn’t a doubt in Keith’s mind that Shiro’s lips were just as soft as they were in their shared dream. He could feel the passion straight down to the tips of his toes, leaving his body with every shallow breath he takes.

Pidge’s smile is telling to what he probably looks like now; stupid in love. If it was bad before they kissed, it was definitely worse now.

“So?” She asks, taking a knee before Keith and pressing on, “How was it? Is kissing in dreams any different from kissing when you’re awake?”

Keith smiles timidly, pressing his thumb to where his lip still buzzes happily, swiping blood from underneath his nose.

“It lingers.”

**Author's Note:**

> come [scream with me](https://sheith-keef.tumblr.com) on tumblr! i hope you enjoyed!


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